Page 141 of Their Blood Rite

‘How do you make Poppet dolls?’ I ask.

Dorian reaches into his pocket and hands me Cole’s Poppet. It’s a strange little thing. Crude and ugly, but certainly holds a resemblance to my ex. The hair is soft. It even smells like him.

‘How did you get his hair?’

‘He was talking to a maid. I’m quiet and quick when I want to be.’

‘If I squeeze it now, will he feel it?’

‘No. It’s my doll. Besides, we’re pretty far away from him now. He’s gotta be close for it to work.’

‘Can you teach me to make one?’

‘I could try. But I’m not gonna.’

‘Why not?’

‘Never mind the fact that you could make one of us. It’s not your Kindred, Poppet. So it would take years to get you skilled enough to do a half-assed attempt.’

‘I’m not going anywhere, and I’m a good student.’

He returns it to his pocket and looks like he’s about to say something. But his mouth closes.

‘I’ll trade you for it,’ I offer.

‘I’m listening.’

‘What do you want?’ I ask.

‘What are you offering?’

I smile.

‘You can have me for a night?’

‘And what would I do with you?’

‘Anything.’ I shrug.

He gives a low chuckle and returns his focus out of the window.

‘I said no, Poppet. You’re quite dangerous enough.’

More silence.

‘Are you going to marry me?’ I ask Shaw.

‘I’m trying to sleep,’ Shaw grumbles.

‘No offence, but I don’t want to marry anyone.’

‘You wanna go back to Cole?’ Shaw replies, his words muffled as he remains buried in his cloak.

‘Obviously not. But the king was pretty clear.’

‘Don’t worry about it.’

‘Easy for you to say.’

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